EPIGRAPHS

I am Andrew Ryan and I’m here to ask you a question: Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his own brow? No, says the man in Washington. It belongs to the poor. No, says the man in the Vatican. It belongs to God. No, says the man in Moscow. It belongs to everyone. I rejected those answers. Instead, I chose something different. I chose the impossible. I chose… Rapture. A city where the artist would not fear the censor. Where the scientist would not be bound by Petty morality. Where the great would not be constrained by the small. And with the sweat of your brow, Rapture can become your city as well.

—Andrew Ryan in BioShock

Imagine if you could be smarter, stronger, healthier. What if you could even have amazing powers, light fires with your mind? That’s what plasmids do for a man.

—The man who calls himself Atlas in BioShock


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